I’ll stick that sign at the end of the drive

Monitoring any respond…spying through

Cracks at the sides of shades, now drawn,

Which, unlike my neighbors’, were raised

Night and day in defiance of hidden lives.

Must I place items neatly on slackly shelves

Or will the sign itself be enough to summon

What I am seeking….and what am I craving;

A grimace, a laugh, a Jehovah’s Witness tract;

A splintered door jamb and feet rushing in?

What would adorn a shelf, entice another,

That they would not already have, though,

Perhaps, deny?  My truths, though clean,

Sparkling spirals to me are likely idiocy

To them as theirs to me.  The sign is enough.